


The Void

by bioticbootyshaker



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Character Death, Insanity, M/M, Mage, Rivalry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-31
Updated: 2012-01-31
Packaged: 2017-10-30 10:31:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/330762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bioticbootyshaker/pseuds/bioticbootyshaker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the events in Kirkwall, Fenris and Hawke take to the road, throwing off their Templar pursuers. But, over the course of several years, Fenris begins to crumble under the weight of his anger. Seeing Hawke assisting so many mages, recalling how Hawke systematically abused the law for his own misguided sense of justice, Fenris wonders if he can be trusted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Void

It was what every mage feared the most. Drifting in their dreams, lost forever in the veil between sleep and the waking world, made nothing but fodder for demons. Perhaps even more than being made Tranquil, mages feared slipping into the Void. Every step promised a painful memory, or a torturous decision. A person could wander there forever, and for the truly unfortunate, madness was not the worst threat.

Like the boy Feynriel, there were some who could be used by the demonic creatures in the Void; they proved as vessels for the creatures, outlets for their horrific and bloody desires. The only mercy for those afflicted with such a burden was a swift death, though the Champion had allowed the boy to live. It was a decision that he had never regretted, but it was a decision that had driven a wedge, no matter how imperceptibly, between himself and his lover. 

Fenris had not betrayed Hawke in the Void, had been one of the few of his companions _not_ to betray him, and he had watched as his lover had convinced the halfling to seek assistance in handling his curse. Fenris had not been thrilled with himself as his hand had touched the hilt of his sword -- for a split second in that chaotic realm he had thought of plunging it through Hawke’s vulnerable midsection.

Even years after the events in the Void, Fenris would dream of the place. The entire realm was confusing and without consistency; doors would shift and fade, halls would tilt, passages would shut without a sound. In the dreams -- which were nothing but vague _memories_ , Fenris certainly had no ability to touch the Void himself -- Fenris would see the boy turning away from them. And he would shout that he had to be stopped, that Hawke must not let him slip away. 

Always in the dreams, Hawke would stand between them.

And always Fenris would jerk awake, fighting back a scream of anguish, the memory of plunging a sword through Hawke's middle strong in his mind. 

It was not only the memories of the Void that caused him so many sleepless nights. Hawke had done a number of things over the years that had irked the elf, but he had always managed to suppress his anger with the idea that Hawke was only tenderhearted. A tenderhearted fool who believed that mages, when left unchained, could be trusted. But with Feynriel, it had been more than simple naivete, it had been _ignorance_. He had seen the truth of the boy’s monstrous capabilities, and he had ignored it. He had deigned to trust a boy who was too young to know his limitations, and old enough to pay for his crimes.

Since they had left Kirkwall, Hawke had not stopped in his campaign to see that the abuse of mages was ended. No matter what town they arrived in, no matter how small or necessary the offense, Hawke would gladly jump into the fray with his warped sense of honor. And always Fenris would watch him with that burning in his chest and that itch in his fingertips; that desire to put a swift and merciful end to the man before his actions led to a slower more agonizing death. 

He loved him. That was the problem. Fenris had never been stunted by his love before. Until Hawke, he had loved nothing other than the thought of freedom. He had been driven by anger and vengeance. Since Hawke had entered his life, a side of Fenris had been softened by his care for the man. He felt like a sword, dulled by the passage of time and the complacency of an uncaring smith. Useless, without purpose, driven only by memories of what he had once been. 

If he had slain the man when they had first met, if he had been able to take up arms against him on that night when the Chantry had been destroyed, he would not be in the situation he was in now. Torn between a sense of what was right in the world and his love for Hawke. Torn between the idea that Hawke was what was _wrong_ with the world, and the idea that without him, there was no world worth living in. 

The Void, the memories, the sense of standing idly by whilst an abomination was allowed to wander free... These were the things that haunted Fenris when he laid next to his lover’s warm body in the night. He would reach for his sword, before his fingers would begin to tremble and he would curl tightly against Hawke and silently beg him to _stop_. To stop allowing his tenderhearted nature to be the death of him.

Over the years that they traveled, Fenris fell slowly into madness. It was not an easy descent, he fougth tooth and nail to keep a hold on reality. But in the night, it was difficult to separate himself from the memories, harder still to separate himself from the bloodlust of his former self. The man who had not thought twice about swathing a path through friend and foe before Hawke had entered his life. 

It became harder to resist his impulses. Harder to stop his fingers as they quested for the hilt of his blade. He would think of Hawke standing in that dreamscape, allowing the boy to go free. But then he would think of Hawke the night they had come together, so gentle and passionate and _strong_ , and he would resist the urge for another night. 

And then, during one of their brief stays in a village, Hawke sealed his fate. He allowed a group of apostates to escape their persecutors. While the templars were in disarray and near destruction, and there was no Circle in the town they found themselves in, Fenris could not understand Hawke's disobedience. The apostates were wanted for _murder_ , an inexcusable offense even for a person not burdened with magic. 

That night as Hawke slept, Fenris could no longer stay his hand. It was strange to see such a powerful man rendered power _less_ , but Hawke could not even speak as Fenris drove his sword through him. All he could do was sputter and scrabble his fingers over the elf's face. His lips worked with some word, caught like glass in his throat, “Fen---”

Fenris screamed, a primitive, wrenching noise, and drove his blade deeper. Some part of him, a part that had managed to hold on, however loosely, to sanity, shuddered and faded into darkness. He watched his lover die with little emotion, only waited for it to be over, for Hawke's eyes to lose their passion and anguish and grow cloudy. He could not stand to look there, to see the horror of what he had done, but he _did_. 

Andraste guide him, he did.

Hawke took a shuddering breath before coughing a clot of blood against Fenris’ cheek. Fenris’ skin crawled beneath the hot fluid, but it was far too late to turn back, impossible to _take_ back what he had done. 

The ‘Champion’ died with the sound of his lover’s primal screaming in ringing in his ears. He died looking into a face he no longer recognized. It was impossible to say what the man thought before he finally died; Fenris liked to think that he had thought of all he had done to force his hand. Most likely he thought of nothing more than Fenris as he had once been. Stubborn and short tempered, but incapable of harming one who loved him so dearly, who he so dearly loved. 

Fenris searched Hawke's lifeless eyes, waiting for something more to happen. When nothing did, he pulled his blade free and tossed it. The feel of it in his hand was almost abominable.

“You have done this to yourself,” Fenris accused, but Hawke, of course, did not hear him. “You have, you have _made_ me do this.”

His words turned into hoarse, chaotic screaming. When the guardsmen came, they found him curled against Hawke's bloody body, wound so tight that they were forced to wrench him away like a frightened, horrified child. 

The Void had supplied him with motive, but in the end, it was not the Void that had been the reason behind his madness. 

Hawke had been too tenderhearted. 

In the grand scheme of things, there was no room in the world for a man like that.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Title:** The Void  
>  **Word Count:** 1,432  
>  **Fandom:** Dragon Age II  
>  **Pairing:** Fenris/Hawke?  
>  **Warnings:** Violence, character death, intense imagery  
>  **Disclaimer:** Dragon Age II and all related characters (c) Bioware
> 
> wow this is  
> something ;-;  
> consider it an AU because no way would fenris hurt hawke


End file.
